In after times, mere instruments, perhaps,
Of venal statesmen, shall recal my nanie
To witness that they want not an example,
And plead my guilt to sanctify their own.
Amidst the herd of mercenary slaves

That haunt your court, could none be found but Warwick To be the shameless herald of a lie?

Edw.

And wouldst thou turn the vile reproach on me?

If I have broke my faith, and stain'd the name
Of England, thank thy own pernicious counsels,
That urg'd me to it, and extorted from me
A cold consent to what my heart abhorr'd.

War. I've been abus'd, insulted, and betrayed;
My injur'd honour cries aloud for vengeance!
Her wounds will never close.

Edw. These gusts of passion

Will but inflame them. If I have been right
Inform'd, my lord, besides these dang'rous scars
Of bleeding honour, you have other wounds
As deep, though not so fatal; such, perhaps,
As none but fair Elizabeth can cure.
War. Elizabeth!

Edw. Nay, start not; I have cause
To wonder most: I little thought indeed,
When Warwick told me I might learn to love,
He was himself so able to instruct me:

But I've discover'd all

War. And so have I

Too well I know thy breach of friendship there,
Thy fruitless base endeavours to supplant me.

Edw. I scorn it, Sir-Elizabeth hath charms,
And I have equal right with you t' admire them;
Nor see I ought so godlike in the form,
So all-commanding in the name of Warwick,
That he alone should revel in the charms
Of beauty, and monopolize perfection.
I knew not of your love.

War. By Heav'n, 'tis false!

You knew it all, and meanly took occasion,
While I was busied in the noble office
Your grace thought fit to honour me withal,
To tamper with a weak unguarded woman,

To bribe her passions high, and basely steal

A treasure, which your kingdom could not purchase.
Edw. How know you that?
But be it as it may,

I have a right; nor will I tamely yield

My claim to happiness, the privilege

To choose the partner of my throne and bed;

It is a branch of my prerogative.

War. Prerogative! what's that? the boast of tyrants: A borrow'd jewel, glitt'ring in the crown

With specious lustre, lent but to betray:

You had it, Sir, and hold it—from the people.

Edw. And therefore do I prize it: I would guard
Their liberties, and they shall strengthen mine;
But when proud Faction and her rebel crew
Insult their sov'reign, trample on his laws,
And bid defiance to his pow'r, the people,
In justice to themselves, will then defend
His cause, and vindicate the rights they gave.

War. Go to your darling people, then; for soon,
If I mistake not, 'twill be needful; try

Their boasted zeal, and see if one of them
Will dare to lift his arm up in your cause
If I forbid them.

Edw. Is it so, my lord?

Then mark my words: I've been your slave too long,
And you have rul'd me with a rod of iron;

But henceforth know, proud peer, I am thy master,
And will be so; the king who delegates
His pow'r to others' hands but ill deserves
The crown he wears.

War. Look well then to your own,

It sits but loosely on your head; for know
The man who injur'd Warwick never pass'd
Unpunish'd yet.

Edw. Nor he who threaten'd Edward-
You may repent it, Sir-my guards there-seize
This traitor, and convey him to the Tow'r ;
There let him learn obedience.

EARL OF WARWICK.

CHAPTER XVIII.

HOTSPUR AND GLENDOWER.

Glen. SIT, cousin Percy; sit, good cousin Hotspur ; For by that name, as oft as Lancaster

Doth speak of you, his cheek looks pale! and with
A risen sigh, he wisheth you in Heav'n.

Hot. And you in Hell as often as he hears

Owen Glendower spoke of.

Glen. I blame him not: at my nativity The front of Heav'n was full of fiery shapes, Of burning cressets; know, that at my birth The frame and the foundation of the earth Shook like a coward.

Hot. So it would have done

At the same season, if your mother's cat

Had kitten'd, though yourself had ne'er been born.
Glen. I say, the earth did shake when I was born.
Hot. I say, the earth was not then of my mind,

If you suppose, as fearing you it shook.

Glen. The Heav'ns were all on fire, the earth did tremble.

Hot. O, then the earth shook to see the Heav'ns on fire! And not in fear of your nativity.

Diseased Nature oftentimes breaks forth

In strange eruptions; and the teeming earth

Is with a kind of colic pinch'd and vex'd,

By the impris'ning of unruly wind

Within her womb, which, for enlargement striving,
Shakes the old beldame earth, and topples down
High tow'rs and moss-grown steeples. At your birth
Our grandam earth, with this distemperature

In passion shook.

Glen. Cousin, of many men

I do not bear these crossings: give me leave
To tell you once again, that at my birth
The front of Heav'n was full of fiery shapes;
The goats ran from the mountains; and the herds
Were strangely clam'rous in the frighted fields: